


every day, discovering something brand new

by eloboosting



Category: League of Legends RPF
Genre: Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, M/M, plot? what plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-20 06:56:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12427338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eloboosting/pseuds/eloboosting
Summary: Sometimes it’s as simple as this: Beomhyun is really into Jongin's cock. (Except it's never that simple.)Or, a guide on how not to have a relationship.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> for an & mel, who wanted slow burn and bossy gorilla and got something incredibly different instead. ty to e for a read-through and reassurance this isn't complete trash ♥
> 
> also note: a lot of this was written on a plane (and by a lot, I mean like 75% of the porn), and yes, I was really terrified the person sitting next to me would look over. also, yes, I'm posting this while in the airport (:

The first time they hook up—

IEM Katowice is supposed to be their great international debut. But against all odds, they fall to WE, a low-tier Chinese team that no one had any expectations of. Unlike them—the favorites to win the whole tournament, a rising star from the LCK, proof that Korea would be okay, even with the exodus of talent.

They lose to Team WE, and Jongin doesn’t even want to imagine the shit being posted about them on Inven. Probably something about why he even bothered to come out of retirement if this was the sort of showing he’d give—

“Fuck,” he says, into his nth bottle of beer for the night, wondering if it’s possible to drown himself through pure intake of alcohol. They’ve been dragged back from the bars to their hotel for the night, tucked into their rooms by their coaches and staff and told to sleep off their pain.

Fortunately, their hotel room comes equipped with a minibar and a whole assortment of different types of alcohol.

“Hyung,” Beomhyun says, looking concerned. “You should stop drinking.”

“Give me something better to do then,” he says, casual and reckless in a way he’s sure he’ll regret in the morning. But he’ll apologize to Beomhyun then—not now, when they’ve just failed their international debut, proved everyone who bet against them right. They’re a bunch of trash-tier players whose lucky streak had finally run out, just as useless and shitty as people had dismissed them as before. “Make me forget what a shitty fuck-up I am.”

Beomhyun looks uncertain for all of a moment before his expression steels. “Okay,” he says, suddenly five steps closer than he’d been just seconds before. Jongin’s just as surprised when he feels hands on his face, forced to look up into Beomhyun’s eyes as Beomhyun repeats again, “Okay?”

And even with all the signs, he still doesn’t expect the kiss.

“Let me take care of you,” he hears faintly, watches Beomhyun step back and strip off his shirt, wondering if he’s actually sleeping. It wouldn’t be the first time Beomhyun had sauntered through his dreams, although he’s never been at this level of undress. Dazed, he reaches out to touch a freckle on Beomhyun’s chest, right around the base of his ribcage—none of his dreams have ever had this level of detail, either.

Beomhyun smiles, the same doting one he gets when Seohaeng or Kyungho are acting like brats. “Don’t worry, hyung.” He kneels down on the ground, gently prying the beer from Jongin’s hand out of his grip and settling it somewhere on the carpet. The sound of his zipper is deafening in the silence of their room, and even as he knows what’s about to happen, a part of his brain is locked on the sheer _impossibility_ of all this. He’s brought abruptly back when he feels Beomhyun touch him through his boxers, half-hard already when Beomhyun cups him with a hand.

“So, hyung?” Beomhyun asks, with a cheeky smirk that fits too well on his face. “Is this better than drinking?”

“Way better,” he breathes out, can’t stop staring as Beomhyun drags his underwear down, pressing a kiss to the tip.

Beomhyun leans back, hand slowly wrapping around the base of Jongin’s cock as he looks. And looks. And Jongin is feeling a little self-conscious by the time Beomhyun finally says, “Oh.”

“Uh,” he says. “Is everything—”

“It’s fine.” Beomhyun flushes bright red, quickly mumbling something Jongin can barely hear, “Just—bigger than I expected.”

Now they’re both red, and Jongin can’t even imagine looking Beomhyun in the eye right now—or anytime in the future really—without feeling utterly mortified about this moment: Beomhyun, still with his hand on Jongin’s cock, naked and vulnerable kneeling between Jongin’s legs, embarrassed out of his mind after commenting on said cock.

“So,” he says, and then his voice breaks as Beomhyun takes that moment to press his lips to Jongin’s cock again.

“It’s not a bad thing,” Beomhyun says, taking the tip in his mouth and wetting it with his tongue. He shifts his hips a little, almost unconscious in the movement only to feel Beomhyun pin his hips down with his hands. He feels Beomhyun’s tongue circle around the tip again, light and teasing and _not enough_ , and he lets out an impatient grunt as Beomhyun ducks away again.

“Watch,” Beomhyun says, and so he fights to keep his eyes open, watches Beomhyun take more of Jongin’s cock into his mouth, how his eyes close as he hums around Jongin’s cock, slides his tongue under the head and Beomhyun’s _good_ at this, has obviously had experience doing this before. He moans, lets his hands slide around to rest on Beomhyun’s head, gently running his fingers through his hair. Beomhyun makes a little noise at that, a vibration that Jongin can _feel_ , and he immediately drops his hands to the blankets, worried as Beomhyun draws off.

“You can, um.” Beomhyun says, blush spreading even to the tips of his ears. He gestures at Jongin’s hands, and Jongin blinks and stares blankly. His thoughts are still thick in his head, even as every sensation he feels seems magnified. Beomhyun gives up trying to explain eventually, taking Jongin’s hands in his own and placing them on his head, face ducked down as he says, “It’s fine.”

“Oh,” he says dumbly, and then again, “ _Oh_ ,” when he realizes what Beomhyun means. And he can feel his face burn hot even as his hands curl tight in Beomhyun’s hair, gives an experimental tug and hears Beomhyun let out a cut-off groan.

Holy fuck.

He pulls lightly, sucks in a breath as Beomhyun relaxes into it, lets Jongin move his head back to his cock. Doesn’t even hesitate to take Jongin’s cock back into his mouth, swallows him all the way down, so quickly that Jongin can’t stop his instinct to push in further.

Shit. “Sorry,” he mutters, tries to draw his hips back only to find that he can’t, not with the vice-like grip Beomhyun has around his thighs. He looks down, only to meet Beomhyun’s eyes, wide and dark and trusting, and he takes a deep breath in as he grips Beomhyun’s hair a little tighter, holds his head still as he gently, tentatively thrusts up into the warmth of Beomhyun’s mouth. He can feel Beomhyun go limp under him, no resistance when he fucks in again, cock hitting the back of Beomhyun’s throat as Beomhyun lets out a little moan—but Beomhyun doesn’t do anything, just kneels there and takes it while Jongin fucks his face, tears starting to build in his eyes, lips red around Jongin’s cock.

“I’m—” Jongin gasps, can feel his thighs tense, knows he’s close, and Beomhyun’s hands around his hips tighten again, not letting Jongin pull away until he finally comes, pleasure curling deep in his stomach as he lets go. Beomhyun backs off slowly, coughing as he finally reaches air.

And even in post-orgasmic bliss, Jongin feels concerned, worried he’s pushed Beomhyun too far. “Sorry,” he says, contrite as he reaches out to touch Beomhyun’s face, wiping spit away from his cheek. “Are you—”

Beomhyun shakes his head, letting his head drop to rest against Jongin’s thigh and roughly wiping his face against a blanket. “It’s okay,” he rasps. “As long as you liked it.”

He pulls Beomhyun up onto the bed, lies them on their sides so they’re both on equal ground. “I did,” he says. He shifts closer, comes right up against where he can feel Beomhyun’s still hard. “Oh, um. Want help?”

Beomhyun buries his face against Jongin’s chest, saying a muffled, “It’s fine,” but that’s not a no, and it doesn’t stop Jongin from moving a hand down to press against Beomhyun’s cock, loosely circles it with his fingers and rubs a thumb over the tip.

“Breathe,” he murmurs, feels Beomhyun shudder against him. He tightens his grip, stroking a little rougher as Beomhyun gasps. “I’ve got you.”

Beomhyun curls in tighter against him, hips jerking against Jongin’s hand as he comes, moaning quiet and stifled into Jongin’s chest. He drops a kiss on the top of Beomhyun’s head, ignoring the unfamiliar softness he feels in his heart or the confused part of his brain still questioning _what the fuck just happened_ —because well, it happened and he can’t take it back. And anyway, he definitely feels better than he did thirty minutes ago.

“If this is what happens when we lose—” he says into the odd quiet that’s surrounded them.

Beomhyun laughs, and the moment breaks. His voice comes out hoarser, huskier, and he raises his head so Jongin can see how his lips are still swollen and his hair is a complete mess—and Jongin’s lost. “I’ll show you something better when we win.”

-

They go home and they win against CJ, desperate to prove that their poor showing at IEM was all a fluke, that they’re just as shiny and promising as everyone expected since their rise to popularity after winning Challengers. There’s a hunger that joins his insecurities now, an ache to play better, to escape his failure of a reputation from his Najin days and show the world just how good he knows he can be.

And this time, Jongin’s the one to pull Beomhyun into their room and into a kiss, giddy off adrenaline and sweet, sweet victory. He doesn’t waste time pinning Beomhyun to the door, easily making use of their difference in height and weight.

Beomhyun laughs as Jongin pulls away, all smiles and shining eyes, “I did promise you something better.”

“This is already better,” he says. “We won this time.”

Beomhyun pushes at his shoulders, and he lets himself be moved, taking a step back while Beomhyun strips his shirt off. “You’re not even curious?”

Last time, he hadn’t been in the right state of mind to appreciate this—but now, now he takes his time to look, to lean back in and drag a hand down the soft, smooth skin of Beomhyun’s chest. “Nah.” He presses a kiss against Beomhyun’s shoulder, drifts up to press another one against his neck. “What can I say, I’m easy to please.”

Beomhyun sighs, tilting his head back until it rests against the door and wrapping his arms around Jongin’s neck. “You’re no fun.”

He bites at the skin of Beomhyun’s clavicle, makes sure to suck in a bruise just below what the collar of their uniforms would cover, enjoying the way Beomhyun’s arms tighten around his neck. He tilts back to study his handiwork, grinning as he rubs a finger over the patch of red skin. He looks into Beomhyun’s eyes, dark and sparkling with humor, “What, is this not fun enough for you?”

“Well,” Beomhyun says slowly, face flushing a dark red as he leans in close, mouth at Jongin’s ear as he whispers, “I kind of wanted you to fuck me.”

He blinks. And then blinks again. And then jerks Beomhyun away to stare at his embarrassed but hopeful face, and _oh._

“Yes,” he says over the rush of blood in his head, the roaring in his ears. “Yes, that, wow. Much better.”

“You don’t make any sense,” Beomhyun teases, as he sneaks out of Jongin’s slack hold, pulling him by his hand to one of the beds.

He’s still dazed by the time he lands on the bed, ass hitting the mattress with a hard thump. “Do I ever?” he asks, slightly sardonic but mostly still stunned.

Beomhyun straddles his thighs, leaning down to kiss him again. He can feel hands at the fly of his jeans, and he wriggles out of them as best he can with Beomhyun still in his lap. “No, you don’t,” Beomhyun says, sitting himself back upright, and Jongin watches as Beomhyun unbuttons his own pants.

“Remind me to always trust in your surprises,” he says.

Beomhyun shoots him a cheeky smile. “I’m offended you didn’t already.”

- 

They can’t make much noise in the dorms, not when they’re surrounded by their teammates and coaches and paper-thin walls, so Beomhyun spends most of his time with his face in a pillow, muffling whatever sounds he makes while Jongin spends his time gasping into the crease of Beomhyun’s neck and shoulder.

The next day, it’s relatively clear that even their best attempts to keep it under wraps have failed, especially when Seohaeng hits him in the shoulder with a muttered, “Some people like to _sleep_.”

Overall, no one really comments on it, treating it like it’s part of the natural development of a bottom lane duo. Out of courtesy, they still try to keep it quiet, but there’s something unsatisfying about how he can’t truly hear Beomhyun, how they’re so busy trying to keep silent that it’s hard to concentrate on anything else.

They sneak out on a day off, presumably for lunch and shopping, but truly, honestly—they both know, their team knows, but plausible deniability and all that—just a reason for them to hole themselves in a hotel room and fuck for a couple of hours. Beomhyun’s insistent they do actually go shopping at some point, because he needs a new moisturizer and he needs it _today_ and Jongin’s not going to argue that point.

Not if he can have Beomhyun like this, stretched out under him with all the time in the world. When he can touch and explore all he wants without the urgency of practice or getting caught by their team, when Beomhyun doesn’t have to muffle himself anymore and Jongin can try his hardest to force every sound out of him.

"I want to hear you," he whispers into Beomhyun's ear, feels Beomhyun shiver under him. "You sound so cute, so hot when you—"

He thrusts again, and this time Beomhyun doesn't even try to bite back his moan, although it ends up muffled as he gasps against Jongin's shoulder. "Just like that," Jongin says, relishing in the heady rush that races along his spine when Beomhyun lets out another little whimper, can't help himself from running his fingers along Beomhyun’s lips.

"Hyung," Beomhyun gasps out, "Hyung—Jongin, please," and every word is like another drip of alcohol in his blood, fire lighting in his veins. It’s a feeling he could easily become addicted to now that he’s had this first hit, knows what it’s like to hear Beomhyun fully.

"That's it," he growls, "Want other people to hear you, know how much you want this, how much you love this."

"Please," Beomhyun begs, legs wrapping around Jongin’s waist tighter. “Please, please—”

He wraps a hand around Beomhyun’s cock, jerking him off in time with his thrusts. “So good for me,” he murmurs as Beomhyun trembles underneath him, grabbing Jongin’s head with shaky hands to pull into another kiss. He can feel the moment Beomhyun stiffens, letting out a little cry into Jongin’s mouth.

He follows soon after, making sure to collapse to the side. He nuzzles against Beomhyun’s neck, until Beomhyun lets out a huff of a laugh, tilting his head down to kiss Jongin.

“Think you got all of that noise out of your system now?” he asks, amused even when Beomhyun glares at him and weakly punches his shoulder.

“Only because you kept pushing!” Beomhyun eventually brightens though, laying back and relaxing as he teases, “Well, it’s good to know you sometimes have good ideas, too,” bursting out into full laughter when Jongin growls and rolls them over in bed.

He pins Beomhyun’s arms down again, taking his time to kiss his way down Beomhyun’s face to his stomach, all the while Beomhyun keeps laughing. “I’ll _show_ you good ideas.”

- 

Jongin’s been absently staring at his computer for the past five minutes, debating whether it’s worth entering queue when he’s hungry and already so tilted the world seems diagonal. He looks over to his side, where Beomhyun is practically dozing at his keyboard, hand still on his mouse at the ready hovering over the area the queue accept would pop up.

Except when the queue does pop, Beomhyun misses the click entirely, still slumped over on his desk. Well.

He taps at Beomhyun’s shoulder. “Let’s get dinner,” he says, watching Beomhyun’s head slowly rise.

“What?” Beomhyun asks, eyes sleepy as his eyebrows furrow in confusion. He looks blearily at his screen and then back at Jongin.

Jongin raises an eyebrow of his own. “The meal you get in the evening? I’m hungry, are you?”

Beomhyun blinks. “Oh,” he says, recognition entering his eyes as he glances at the clock. “Yeah, sure. I can ask the rest of the team—”

“No,” he interrupts smoothly, feeling weirdly nervous now that he has to clarify himself. He rests a hand on top of Beomhyun’s, while Beomhyun stares at it like he thinks it’ll jump up and bite him somehow. “I was thinking—just us two?”

“Oh,” Beomhyun says dumbly. He looks up at Jongin this time, edges of his mouth starting to curve up into a small smile. “Sure.”

 

There are two things Jongin’s sure that Beomhyun likes: 1. taking pictures of food and 2. a good selca. Fortunately, they find a restaurant that can provide the former at least, because Jongin’s on a quest to ruin any tries at the latter, pulling the most unappealing faces until Beomhyun laughs and shoves his head away from his phone.

“You don’t _need_ to be in this picture,” he complains, but he still lets Jongin set his chin on his shoulder, snapping a shot of them just as Jongin contorts his face. “ _Hyung_!”

Jongin leans back, laughing loudly and roughly tousling Beomhyun’s hair while Beomhyun scowls at him. “C’mon, take another picture of the food before it gets cold.”

Beomhyun’s frown deepens, but he still aims his phone at the dishes in front of them, concentrating as he tilts it side-to-side, small adjustments in search of the best angle. Jongin sighs, slipping back into his own seat and arming himself with fork and knife and waiting for Beomhyun’s go-ahead. He watches Beomhyun switch his phone back into selca mode, squinting his eyes at the screen as he neatly fixes his hair, but he still doesn’t give Jongin the signal that it’s okay to eat—in fact, he knows exactly when Beomhyun starts taking selcas again, with his picture-perfect smile and face tilted slightly down.

Jongin sighs and reaches out a hand, waggling his fingers. “Give me that,” he says, and Beomhyun looks up at him in confusion. “I’ll take your picture.”

Beomhyun eyes him with suspicion, glancing between Jongin’s face and the phone before he seems to make his decision. He shrugs as he hands the phone over to Jongin, quickly brushing his hair out of his eyes as he poses next to the food.

“You’re obsessed,” Jongin says, but he snaps the pictures quickly, familiar enough with what Beomhyun wants that he’s sure at least _one_ of them is usable, making sure to include a selca of his own in the mix. He hands the phone back and looks pointedly down at their meal. “Can we eat now?”

Beomhyun hums as he swipes through the photos, and Jongin can tell when he happens upon the selca he slipped in, his face suddenly breaking into a bright grin. “Yeah,” Beomhyun says. “Let’s eat.”

And with how hungry he is now, especially with the wait for the food and then the photos, the food is _delicious._ But, he thinks, looking up at Beomhyun with a soft smile, it’s really the person he’s with that makes the experience.

-

For the most part, it’s a don’t ask-don’t tell situation with their other teammates—and really, during team outings and games, there’s no difference in the way they act. But he can see Seohaeng eye them oddly out of the corner of his eye, looking more and more concerned as his and Beomhyun’s encounters become less friends-with-benefits and more something ambiguous and undefined.

It’s on one of their rare days off, a group outing to some new arcade Hojin’s heard of, that Seohaeng sidles up next to him and asks, “Do you remember Watch?”

Jongin blinks. “You mean Jaegeol hyung?” He shrugs. “Yeah, why?”

“There were rumors that back on Najin, that he and Beomhyun also—” Seohaeng shrugs, and Jongin raises an eyebrow at him. “The ending was messy.”

“Okay, but that was in the past?” Jongin asks slowly, and Seohaeng makes a frustrated noise.

“Beomhyun is really selfless, right?” Seohaeng starts, obviously trying another tact, and hopefully Jongin will actually understand this one unlike that first weird non sequitur. “He’d give up a lot of things if it meant that someone else would be happy.”

He nods. “Right.”

“It’s easy to overlook him, to take him for granted because you know he’ll always be there. That’s just who he is.”

Jongin’s starting to get an inkling of what Seohaeng is trying to say, but still has no idea what the point of it all is. “Okay, and?”

“And don’t you think he gets tired of that sometimes?” Seohaeng pauses to look at him expectantly, but Jongin’s still confused, and he’s sure his face is just as blank and empty as his brain. “That he’d want to be first in someone’s life for once?”

“Um,” he says. “Sure?”

Seohaeng sighs again, obviously even more frustrated than before. “Look,” he says. “I’m just saying—be careful. I’ve heard a little about what happened on Najin, and he’s had bad experiences in the past.”

Jongin looks ahead at where Beomhyun’s smiling at whatever Kyungho and Hojin are joking about, their arms up in the air in wild exaggeration as usual.

“Okay,” he says, can’t help smiling when he sees Beomhyun join whatever insanity Kyungho and Hojin are concocting. “I will.”

- 

One day, Jongin idly glances over at a calendar and realizes it’s been exactly two months since they lost at IEM. It’s not a particularly fond memory, or something he really wants stuck in his brain—but it also coincides with the first time he and Beomhyun had—well, _done_ things.

He looks over at the league client pulled up on his computer apathetically, and immediately opens up Naver instead. He types in up to _good flowers to give to_ before he stops. And thinks.

And thinks.

_good flowers to give to your fuckbuddy_

He squints at his cursor for a moment before he backspaces one word and tries again.

_good flowers to give to your friend_

Something still feels off, and so

_good flowers to give to your friend with benefits_

And even as he feels like a complete tool when he presses enter, he’s not sure what else to put. Unsurprisingly, all he gets is a bunch of weird websites explaining how giving gifts was a one-way ticket to destroying all good things in the world and he sighs, trying one last time:

_good flowers to give to your boyfriend_

He hits a bunch of sites exclaiming how _progressive_ it is to give flowers to men, and only after a lifetime of scrolling and skimming does he finally find something that might help. Except all the flowers they list are excessively complicated, and he gives up. It’s not like he’s trying to send Beomhyun a letter with flowers; he just wants something nice.

So fuck it, he’s getting Beomhyun roses. _Red_ roses.

-

Beomhyun takes one look at the vase of roses on his desk and almost trips over his chair. He whips his head around, frantically looking at the rest of the team before his eyes finally settle on Jongin. “Who’re these from?”

The panic in Beomhyun’s eyes isn’t fading and his face is getting really pale and Jongin’s really starting to regret this decision. “Uh,” he says sheepishly. “Me?”

“Why?” Beomhyun demands.

“Because,” he says slowly, trying not to let the awkwardness and devastation sink too low in his gut. “It’s our two-month anniversary?”

There’s a loud cough from the background, and Jongin _really_ regrets putting the flowers out in plain view. He’s not sure if he’ll ever be able to live this down.

“You _remembered_?” Beomhyun asks, voice starting to take on a high-pitched, hysterical edge. “You don’t even remember our match days—but you remember this and you decided to give me,” He does a double-take on the flowers, voice reaching another impossible pitch higher. “ _Roses_?”

Kyungho spares them a glance from his monitor, eyebrows rising up before he’s back to focusing on his game. “Classy.”

“Uh,” Jongin says. “Would you rather have—”

There’s another loud cough, and they both swivel to face Seohaeng, who’s making jerky motions toward their room. “This is a little disruptive.”

“Nah,” Hojin cuts in, who from god-knows-where has obtained a bowl of popcorn, nonchalantly popping kernels into his mouth, a leg casually slung over the arm of his chair. "This is quality drama.”

Beomhyun’s face flushes dark red—up to the tip of his ears in a way Jongin’s always found to be really cute—and before Jongin can really absorb the goings-on, he’s being dragged into their room along with the vase of roses.

“I thought you’d like them,” he says, hoping to stave off a breakdown.

Beomhyun stares at him, repeating at a snail’s pace, “You thought I’d like them—” He shakes his head. “Don’t you understand what I’d think when I saw them? This isn’t something that _friends_ do.”

“I—” Jongin feels lost, doesn’t know what to say to correct the situation. “Well, I mean.” It’s his turn to blush, glancing over at the door. “I wouldn’t mind it, you know? Dating?”

Beomhyun blinks, hand dropping from the air, eyes widening in surprise. “Dating?”

“Unless you don’t want to,” he hurries to correct. “But—”

“No,” Beomhyun interrupts quickly, reaching out a quick hand to touch Jongin’s. “No, I—yes, let’s date.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk if you've noticed, but I have a full-blown addiction to including timeline details about games/splits/etc, even in a story that doesn't revolve around those specifics, god knows why
> 
> this fic was supposed to go in a completely different direction, but I was having a ton of trouble with the ending/the last parts, and it's (relatively) complete like this. still debating whether to try and finish up the second part.
> 
> idk why you're reading this far, but fun fact, I was going to name this fic after a mordekaiser ability (harvester of sorrow) because it was one of many random webpages I had pulled up
> 
> late note: I actually did the google searches for the flowers part, and these are the exact results I got


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> honeymoon phases never last forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for all the shit I was talking about in the comments, this is really...mild? idk, the ending is really fucking sappy still so dw, no hearts are broken

For all that trouble with clarifying their relationship, it doesn’t actually seem to change anything. Apart from the fact that their outings are now called _dates_ and Beomhyun’s face burns bright red whenever Jongin refers to him as his boyfriend—it’s pretty anticlimactic, really.

Beomhyun starts stealing his shirts, all too long and baggy on him, and they look comical in practice. But Jongin has nothing to complain about—there’s something gratifying about seeing his tagname printed on Beomhyun’s back, knowing Beomhyun’s wearing _his_ clothes—especially not when Beomhyun chooses to forgo underwear while they sleep. It’s all too easy to sneak a hand underneath a shirt to touch the soft skin of Beomhyun’s thigh, the small of his back, or, when he’s feeling particularly daring, the swell of his ass.

He lives for moments like now, when he wakes up pressed right up against Beomhyun’s back, where it’s easy to lean in and mouth at the nape of Beomhyun’s neck, kissing his way across one shoulder while Beomhyun stirs slightly next to him.

“Hyung?” Beomhyun mumbles, voice still rough with sleep. He turns slightly, eyes still half-closed, and Jongin leans in to kiss him on the cheek.

“Morning,” he says cheerfully, letting his hands slide down from Beomhyun’s waist to his hips and finds the shirt riding up enough that he immediately touches skin. Beomhyun sighs, shifting a little so he can push back against Jongin.

Beomhyun turns his head back forward, tucking it against his pillow. “’m tired.”

He laughs, angling their hips so he can rut against the cleft of Beomhyun’s ass. “Don’t worry, I’ll do all the work.”

Beomhyun reaches back, blindly grabbing for Jongin’s hand before tugging it around to his own cock. “You better.”

Jongin kisses the nape of Beomhyun’s neck again. “Of course.”

-

Summer doesn’t start out nearly as well as spring. In fact, it’s pretty much a total disaster as they drop games left and right, misjudging the meta and unsure about what’s going wrong. They’ve just lost their sponsor, left running on hope and desperation, can only believe that their play is good enough to attract an org willing to pay them. But their play isn’t good, it’s deteriorating as fast as their health, and each day is another tense moment in a ticking time bomb.

He starts playing more and more—they all do, but he knows he’s pushing it to excessive amounts, lack of sleep affecting his mood and temper more as days pass. He deliberately ignores the concerned looks Beomhyun shoots him, shoveling his meals down robotically before returning to his computer and playing another sequence of incredibly tilting games.

“Hyung,” Beomhyun says, following him out of the kitchen after a late night snack, “You should take a break.”

He should do many things—shower, sleep, call his parents, bury his head under a pillow and wish he wasn’t alive—he grunts instead.

Beomhyun places a careful hand on Jongin’s shoulder, and he supresses his instinct to react.  When Beomhyun speaks, his voice is an artfully modulated coyness, “I can think of something we could do—”

He wraps a hand around Beomhyun’s wrist, pulling it away from his shoulder. “Another time,” and pretends he doesn’t see hurt flit across Beomhyun’s face.

“Jongin—”

“Just stop it,” he snaps. “If we have free time, we should be practicing.”

Beomhyun frowns. “You think I don’t practice—don’t care as much as you?”

“Our responsibilities are different; you don’t—I have to worry about carrying the rest of you,” he says, knowing it’s unnecessarily harsh and incredibly not true, but it’s 4AM, he’s low on sleep, and he can feel the desperate hunger to win gnawing up through his stomach to his heart.

Beomhyun recoils, taking a step back. “I see,” he says, “Well when you’re done carrying my _dead weigh_ _t_ —”

He can already feel regret collecting at the base of his throat, but he swallows it down as his pride stops him from reaching out. Beomhyun walks away, and Jongin is left staring at Beomhyun’s back right as his queue pops.

He clicks to accept—only for it to drop because someone else declines.

 

They start winning miraculously somewhere around the fourth week, practice paying off with their increase in coordination and their pick/ban smoothing out.

Beomhyun's been near silent next to him for the weeks between, the surrounding air tight with tension. He should be the one to apologize, knows that he’s absolutely in the wrong, but with every passing day and match it’s become harder and harder for him to find the courage or the right time to come forward. And like in so many things, Beomhyun is the one to take the first step.

“I didn’t empathize enough,” Beomhyun says, and Jongin feels like an absolute asshole. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he says. “It was all my fault—I didn’t mean it, I was frustrated and angry and sleep-deprived.”

Beomhyun smiles at him vacantly, “It’s fine, hyung. I understand.”

 

He’d forgotten just how comfortable it is to sleep next to Beomhyun, to wrap his arms around him and shut his eyes to the world around them. Wins and losses don’t matter here, the hunger and desperation to win fades into a bearable ache in his stomach,  

“I missed you,” Beomhyun whispers into his chest, and his heart aches because their fight was petty and stupid and all his fault.

“I’m sorry,” he says, hugging Beomhyun closer, hoping his presence can confirm exactly how much remorse he feels over being such an ass.

- 

His parents come to one of their games as they sometimes do when they have the free time, surprising him backstage after their win. Thankfully, this isn’t one of those victories where he and Beomhyun do indecent things after, mostly still joking with their teammates and packing up their things while Nochul finishes up his administration duties.

He has an arm slung around Beomhyun’s shoulders, casual and affectionate, while he talks with Seohaeng when his parents walk into their practice room. This isn’t their first time visiting, and they’re no longer as wide-eyed and surprised by the glitz and glamour and sheer magnitude of the stadium, instead walking in like somewhat experienced insiders. He jolts out of surprise, pulls back his arm even when he theoretically knows there’s nothing wrong with it being there, that it’s normal and okay to have an arm around a friend, and Beomhyun looks over at him with confusion.

“Ah—mother, father,” he quickly jumps to his feet to show his parents into the room. “This is unexpected.”

He carefully hugs his mother and then his father, enough of a distraction for his teammates to shift into their best parent-pleasing behavior. Beomhyun, ever the crowd-pleaser, is the first to greet them with a small bow, followed by Seohaeng, Hojin, and then Kyungho, each address becoming more charming and gracious than the last. By the time Kyungho’s had his turn, his mother looks especially pleased.

“Your friends are so well-behaved,” she says. “You could learn from them.”

Hojin coughs loudly, a hand over his mouth while Kyungho seems to _glow_ , and Jongin sighs. “Of course.”

They don’t mind waiting for him to finish their team fan meet, looking on curiously as the lines start to form per player, until Jongin’s busy accepting gifts and signing cards to pay attention anymore. Many of the attendees are familiar, although there are some new ones mixed in that are extra polite and shy when they ask for selcas. He’s perfected his style since his time on Najin, and he makes sure to be add a touch of playfulness and cheer, enough to make them laugh and relax.

He doesn’t have the longest line of the team—that honor belongs to Kyungho, who basks in the attention and returns the most disgustingly cutesy of fan-service possible—so he has time to talk to his parents while he waits.

“I would’ve thought you were an idol group if I didn’t know better,” his father says with a laugh.

He shrugs, aiming for the polite answer, “We really appreciate their support.”

His mother clucks her tongue. “I hear one of the pros on Samsung is engaged,” she says, and Jongin knows where she’s heading but has no way to stop her, “You’re popular enough, you should think of settling down.”

He freezes, eyes straying toward where Beomhyun is thankfully still busy taking selcas with his line of fans. He laughs uncomfortably. “Yeah, I’ll think about it.”

 

They let him go after a quick dinner, satisfied with his answers after interrogating him about his health and happiness, and leaving a bunch of reminders to visit home more often—doesn’t he miss them or his siblings at all? There are plenty of pros and cons to having his family in Seoul, and he demurs about thinking about which is which.

He stumbles back into the team house later at night, ignoring the bright lights of the practice room and heading straight for bed. He finds Beomhyun sitting in his own bed, engrossed in his phone, and he doesn’t pay it any mind, changing into his pjs without another thought.

“Is it really okay?” Beomhyun asks. Jongin pauses, looking over at him with confusion, and Beomhyun clarifies, “Dating me?”

He briefly considers if this is a trap question before he shrugs. “Yeah, of course. Why not?”

“Your parents would never accept me,” Beomhyun says, and Jongin sighs. It was too hopeful to think Beomhyun wouldn’t overhear.  

“I don’t care what my parents want,” he says. “It’s my decision that matters.”

Beomhyun frowns. “But—”

“Your parents would never approve of me, either,” he continues, voice dipping into his usual flair of sarcasm and self-deprecation, dramatic as he brings a hand to his heart. “I mean, I’m not even the best AD in the league, how could I ever take care of their son?”

Beomhyun rolls his eyes, shoving at Jongin’s arm. “I’m serious! I know you care about what they think—”

“Not as much as I care about what _I_ think,” Jongin cuts in, sighing as he drops his hand. “Isn’t that enough?”

Beomhyun still looks conflicted, but at least he stops arguing, and Jongin sits down next to him and nudges him on the shoulder. “You make me happy, okay?”

He’s a little concerned when Beomhyun still refuses to look him in the eye, but relaxes when he feels Beomhyun lean his head on his shoulder. “Okay.”

-

Jongin’s never been the kind of person to get his hair dyed every other year, changing colors as quickly as the seasons. He likes it a certain length and lets the stylist do the rest, easygoing about the details.

Beomhyun on the other hand, has very specific tastes and is always up to date with the latest trends—has always paid impeccable attention to his appearance in all aspects. So when he comes back to the house sporting bleached blond hair, he doesn’t really pay it any mind. Beomhyun’s dyed his hair before, and it’s nothing too drastic.

"What do you think?" Beomhyun asks, and Jongin looks up from his computer to look more closely.

"You forgot to do your eyebrows," he teases, pressing a finger to Beomhyun’s forehead.

Beomhyun frowns at him, and in complete deadpan, "Well, I didn't dye the bottom, either.”

He runs his hand through Beomhyun’s hair, still softer than he imagined considering the amount of bleach required to turn it this bright. “It looks good on you.” Beomhyun’s face flushes a warm red and Jongin grins as he leans over to whisper in Beomhyun’s ear. “But it’d look better if you matched.”

“ _Hyung_!” Beomhyun immediately yells, shoving him away. “You’re so fucking—”

Jongin can’t help laughing, even when Beomhyun starts smacking him on the shoulders. “Hey,” he says with a wink. “Don’t worry, I can help hold your dick while you apply the dye.”

Beomhyun kicks his chair, and he rolls away in a slow laughing heap.

 

Beomhyun eventually forgives him after a whole load of groveling, like he does so many other things Jongin does, and they settle in for another marathon of solo queue and binge eating and tilt that their profession dictates.

He can see Beomhyun move in his peripheral vision, his hair a pale blond blur that’ll catch his eye every so often and he thinks aloud, “That shade seems kind of familiar.”

Beomhyun stills, and Jongin absently looks over at him. “I used a reference.”

“Oh.” He shrugs, “Cool.”

He doesn’t even think about it until a few days later, paging through Naver and happening upon the newest music video of TWICE. His favorite’s changed her hair again, cutting it shorter and bleaching it blonde. It looks nice on her, he thinks, and _she_ makes sure her eyebrows match, too, but—

He looks over to where Beomhyun has his concentrated face on, fucking some people up in solo queue as usual, and he smiles—he knows who wears it better.

- 

“Hey, do you want to go out to eat? He can see Beomhyun lazily scrolling through twitter, clicking every so often to retweet a cute cat or dog picture. “That one noodle place you like?”

“Hmm?” Beomhyun looks up at him. “Sure.”

It’s not much of an answer, but it’s as affirmative as he’s probably going to get so he rolls with it. “We can go shopping after, if you want?”

Beomhyun gives him his whole attention now, looking as earnest as ever. “Oh, it’s okay, hyung,” he says. “I know you don’t like shopping—we can do something else.”

Jongin blinks, a little puzzled by the answer. His general apathy toward shopping had never stopped Beomhyun from dragging him to do it before. “I don’t mind,” he says. “We’ll already be outside, and I know we haven’t had free time in a while.”

“We always do things I want to do,” Beomhyun argues. “I want to do something that’ll you’ll enjoy, too.”

“I really don’t—”

Beomhyun’s look brokers no argument and he raises his arms in defense. “Okay, well uh, want to see a movie, then?”

 

Jongin’s not sure when the last time they’d had time to watch a movie outside was, but he’s pretty sure he’s not going to waste two and a half hours on this shit ever again. It's not a bad movie, the usual escapist fare—just, not the most efficient use of time. His instinct when placed in a dark room in front of a giant screen is to analyze the game placed in front of him. His internal clock would tell him every six minutes that dragon had spawned, and at twenty minutes he was itching to check on Baron. The closest he got was a bunch of dinosaurs running across the screen, and he’d turned to Beomhyun to make a prehistoric Cho’gath joke that earned him an elbow to the ribs.

At least they manage to quickly snag seats at the restaurant they’d had planned for dinner, not even needing the menu to order their usual. And like every time they eat together, he asks if they _really_ need another perfect picture of their food before they eat. But unlike all the other times, Beomhyun actually agrees, doesn’t engage in his usual photoshoot and selca spree—and Jongin almost burns his tongue on his first spoonful of soup.

He sees Beomhyun trying to contain his laughter and he complains, “It’s because you usually take so long the food’s cooled down by the time we eat.”

Beomhyun shrugs. “You’re the one who wanted to skip it.”

“Fine, fine, camera eats first,” Jongin says, waving a hand at their meal. “Do your magic.”

Beomhyun eagerly holds up his phone, but stops in the middle of his fiddling. “You’re okay with this, right?”

Jongin lets out an overly dramatic put-upon sigh. “When did my opinion start mattering?”

“Hyung—” He watches Beomhyun’s eyes flick from his phone and away, indecisiveness written on his face.

He flicks Beomhyun on the forehead. “Don’t worry about it,” he says. “And if you want pictures, I can take them. It’s not a problem.”

And at least Beomhyun looks more relaxed and happier now, already holding his phone out for Jongin to take.

 

Beomhyun always thinks he’s being sneaky when he steals food from Jongin’s bowl, but there hasn’t ever been a time when Jongin hasn’t noticed. This time’s target is a side of dumplings to the side of his noodles, and he lets Beomhyun get as far as lifting the dumpling into the air when he teases, "That's not what a good boyfriend would do.”

Beomhyun freezes, slowly looking up at Jongin’s face before he lets out an awkward laugh. “Right,” he says, smiling even as he sounds unsure. He still drops Jongin’s dumpling back down on Jongin’s plate, retracting his arm.

Jongin blinks, looks back at the dumpling and then at Beomhyun. “I was joking,” he says, but Beomhyun is already back to concentrating on his own meal.

He sighs. “C’mon,” he says. “When have I ever cared before?”

Beomhyun shrugs, and Jongin lets out another sigh as he plops the dumpling into Beomhyun’s bowl. “It’s already contaminated with your germs,” he explains, pleased when he sees Beomhyun crack a genuine smile at that. He moves a few pieces of meat from his bowl over as well. “Is this enough to satisfy the boyfriend tax?”

“Well,” Beomhyun says, making a show of considering the offering. But Jongin can see that longing look in his eyes when it comes to the meat, and he rolls his eyes and laughs as he gives over another piece.

“Enough?”

Beomhyun passes over some of his vegetables to Jongin’s amusement—like that’s somehow a fair trade. “Barely.”

- 

Kyungho walks away with another MVP in their match against Anarchy, whooping about it the whole car ride back while the rest of the team tries their best to roast his ego back into shape.

“That MVP was undeserved,” Jongin complains. “You just stole all the kills.”

“Don’t be too jealous,” Kyungho says smugly.

Seohaeng, the other MVP of the night, doesn’t even bother to say anything, just letting out a tired sigh.

“I can’t help it that OGN has some grudge against me,” Jongin grouches, throwing himself onto their couch.

Kyungho settles himself next to him, throwing an arm around his shoulders. “I’ll trade you the secret to getting MVPs,” Kyungho says, flippant as ever as he leans in and stage-whispers, “If you give me the rights to Beomhyun hyung.”

Jongin snorts. “Too easy.” He reaches out a hand for Kyungho to shake. “You have a deal.”

Kyungho looks at his hand for a hot second before he shakes his head. “You’re a terrible boyfriend,” he says, even when Jongin can hear the humor in his voice. “Never mind, I take back my offer.”

“Worst fucking boyfriend ever,” he agrees, and Kyungho laughs.

“I don’t know how Beomhyun hyung deals with you at all.”

Jongin grins, all teeth as he says, “My charisma and my co—”

“Don’t finish that,” Beomhyun calls out from where he’s sitting at his computer, and Jongin obediently closes his mouth. Kyungho mimes a whipping motion with accompanying sound from Hojin, and Jongin scowls at them both.

Unexpectedly, Beomhyun decides to walk over, face flushing bright red as he mumbles out, “It’s—it’s nice,” he says, as Kyungho and Hojin stare at him, “His—” Jongin’s left speechless, because—this isn’t, he doesn’t need Beomhyun to, knows Beomhyun _hates_ this sort of thing, but well, it’s not like Beomhyun can even force the word out of his mouth as he completes, “Technique.”

“Um,” Hojin says, looking more alarmed than anything else, while Kyungho almost looks sick.

He takes Beomhyun’s hand in his own, tightening his grip as he stands and pulling Beomhyun with him to their room. He makes sure to firmly close the door behind them before he turns to Beomhyun, gentle as he says, “Hey.”

Beomhyun’s face is still red, turning darker with each passing moment as he sits on the bed and covers his face with his palms. “Oh my god.”

“Is everything okay?” he asks, still soft and nonthreatening, walking over and sitting down as casually as he can. “Lately, you’ve been sort of—on edge?”

“Everything’s fine,” Beomhyun says into his hands, and Jongin is _really_ not convinced.

“Are master promos getting to you?” he asks, trying for a joke, but Beomhyun still remains stubbornly curled up, and he sighs. “Have I done something wrong? Did something happen—”

Beomhyun finally looks over at him. “Isn’t this what you want in a boyfriend?”

He blinks, because of all answers this was not one he expected. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t you want someone who’s cool with those jokes—that can play along and isn’t such a prude?” Beomhyun lifts his legs onto the bed and tucks his chin on top of his knees. “Someone who shares your hobbies and—”

“Who my parents approve of and who won’t steal my food?” Jongin finishes. “I mean, sure?” Beomhyun looks over at him with alarm and he sighs again. “Of course I’d want that, but I have something better.” He nudges Beomhyun on the shoulder. “I have a naggy, cranky appearance-obsessed prude of a boyfriend who always knows how to cheer me up and pushes me to be my best.” He shrugs. “What more could I want?”

Beomhyun levels him with a flat glare. “Everything.”

“I know this might be hard to believe,” he says, imitating Nochul’s lecturing coach voice. “But I fell for you as _you_ , not some perfect boyfriend version of you,” and then a little slyly, “But if perfect boyfriend version wouldn’t mind giving me a blowjob in the studio—”

“Shut up.” Beomhyun elbows him in the side. “You were doing so well with the compliments.”

He grins. “Well, I’m not a perfect boyfriend either.”

Beomhyun sighs dramatically. “Kyungho was right, I could do better.”

“Oh, definitely,” he says easily. “I’m just enjoying my time until you move on to someone better.”

“Shut up,” Beomhyun says again, and Jongin laughs as he’s pushed back onto the bed, hands resting on Beomhyun’s hips as he crawls on top of Jongin and leans down for a kiss. “How are you so—”

“So perfect?” he asks cheekily. “Easy, I was born this way.”

Beomhyun kisses him again, most likely to get him to stop talking—not that Jongin minds. He’s missed this part of Beomhyun, the bossy side that knows what he wants and exactly how to get it, and it’s simple to play along. He can feel Beomhyun’s hands go down to his pants—and never let it be said that he’d turn down a work-free orgasm—and he smiles winningly up at Beomhyun. “You know I really, _really_ like you, right?” and because he's on a roll, he continues, "That even when you're old and gray and wrinkly, you'll be first in my heart?"

Beomhyun rolls his eyes even when Jongin can tell he's flattered, leaning down next to Jongin's ear and says, “You're not so bad either.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fucked up, I forgot gorilla dyed his hair for 2016 worlds, not in 2015 -___-;; but he’s dyed it brown in 2015!! idk, it was all to get that dumb carpet matching the drapes joke in (and ofc gorilla would never forget his eyebrows, but bear with me), because my sense of humor is terrible
> 
> this turned out to be really fucking undramatic because I realized that pray & gorilla would actually use their words, so uh. well, not as much miscommunication and angst as I had planned lol. I’ll probably put the cut out parts somewhere anyway because it seems like such a waste to let them die
> 
> the boyfriend tax is from this hilarious chinese meme that I don't know how to track down, where one party steals meat and gives veggies back in return. it was rly funny I swear, if only I could find the video


End file.
